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THE K I N G ’S B U S I N E S S
August 1925
% “ Do you mean th a t you will not m arry me if I am not a C h ristian ?” she asked, her tem per a t white heat. “Louise, I dare not, no m a tte r how much I love you, bu t I will pray every day th a t He will lead you to Christ, and I believe He w ill.” The last sentence was more th an Louise fe lt she could bear. “You need not bother praying for me, fo r even if I were a Christian I wouldn’t lower myself to be th e wife of a man whose fath er was an embezzler and a suicide,” she bu rst out w ith stinging vehemence. F o r fully a m inute W illiam looked a t her in stunned silence, not understanding w hat she meant. Then he grasped h er hand, and held it in a painful clutch. “W hat do you m ean?” he whispered. Louise, looking into his white, drawn face, realized th a t she had said an awful thing, th a t she had h u rt u n u tte r ably th is man th a t she still loved. She could only say, by way of. self vindication, “Dad told me th a t last n igh t.” The evening of the next day found him a t th e door of his old home. Aunt Fanny opened the door, and w ith an- excla mation of glad surprise let him in. He kissed her mechan ically, asking for Uncle Jack, and when told he was in the lib rary went a t once to find him. “W hat ails the boy?” asked Aunt Fanny, bu t she did not follow him. “Uncle Jack ,” bu rst out W illiam even before his uncle knew of his presence, “was my fath e r an embezzler, and did he commit suicide?” Jack Harmon rose to his feet and advanced to meet the white-faced boy before him. It did not tak e long for a thousand thoughts to pass through his m ind; he remem bered thinking, th is is th e way a drowning man feels. He tried to pray for time. “Who told you th a t, W illiam ?” '. “T h at does hot m a tte r in th e least. Was my fath e r an embezzler and a suicide?” he asked, and Jack Harmon wished w ith all his m ight he had not pu t th e tim e off, but had told him th a t summer, years ago. “Your fath e r did not comm it suicide, th a n k God, W illiam ,” was all he could th ink to say. “ I infer from your m anner th a t he was an embezzler, then. Why didn’t you tell me before. Why should you let me th ink differently all these years?” The words fell from hot lips. “W illiam, sit down here; yes, sit down,” as impatiently th e boy strode away. Then obediently he sa t down a t the repeated command. He tu rn ed and walked to his desk, drew out th e letter and stood before th e boy. “ I know now I should have told you before, th a t summer we were up on th e old homestead. While th ere I found this le tte r from your fath e r to me, in th e old safe box, our boyhood postofflce. I did not know definitely till th en th a t he had been responsible for the disappearance of church funds, and th a t he had no t been accidentally drowned. But I did know then; th is letter told me all th a t I knew definitely, and it was eight years old. Read it, and do not blame me too much, William. I wanted to do w hat was best for all,” pleaded Jack Harmon. W illiam took the letter. He recognized his fath e r’s hand w riting, for he had cherished for years letters his father had w ritten and sermon notes he had retain ed possession of. A fter reading it, he bowed his head upon the desk and sobbed aloud. Jack H armon said no word. He was busy wiping his own eyes, and he felt the tears would be good for th e overw rought boy. When he regained his self control, W illiam wanted to go over the ground thoroughly. "How could Mr. Birdsey know? Was it public property? Had it ever been paid back? Had his mother and g rand paren ts known?” were the many questions poured forth.
“ If I remember rightly, Mr. Birdsey was a member of th e financial board of the church of which your fath e r was pastor. I knew they suspected something was wrong, although your g ran d fath er telegraphed me to arrang e to tu rn th a t am ount over to them a t once, and la ter I learned th a t he had sold his business out a t a trem endous sacrifice, and died a poor man. But he did not know, nor did any one know then, th a t your fa th e r’s death was not accidental. I mean th a t w hat we supposed was his death was acci dental.” • “Then my fath e r was alive th a t summer? No, you could not know th a t, bu t do you th in k th a t he m ight be still liv ing? Uncle Jack ,” he exclaimed, as he looked in th e older man’s face, “ Is my fath e r still living? Do you know where he is? Did he find peace w ith God?” “William, I cahnot tell. I do not know definitely the answers to your questions, but I th ink your fath e r is still living,” was th e answer. “Then I shall find him, I shall help him to find peace in God. Of course God will forgive him. He is kinder than we are, and we love him ,” said W illiam earnestly. “We do indeed,” replied Jack H armon silently. “Uncle Jack, what became of th a t money?” “No,” he said sharply, as he caught a look on his uncle’s face. “ It could not be th a t. He could not have told you a lie. I believe this le tte r is true. But where is th e money? Did you look for it everywhere?” “William, we searched everywhere a t the time, carefully th rough his papers, although we were not expecting to find the money, only evidence as to where it had gone. I am sure it could not have escaped us. If it was in th e room when your fath e r went to bed, and th e room was still locked, I can offer no explanation of its disappearance.” “You locked th e door yourself, Uncle Jack. Can you remember how th e den looked th a t n ig h t?” W illiam ’s words had a keen intensity. “Yes, when I came down from th e bedroom I stepped into the room to get th e key from th e inside of the door, and I remember the desk was open. I stepped over to. close it, and saw there, a book your fath e r had borrowed from me a few days before, and which he told me he was through with, and I picked it up, sh u t th e desk and locked the door, tak ing th e key upstairs to your fa th e r.” “W hat book was it? Can you rem em ber?” Puzzled, th e elder man thoughtfully looked a t his books. “ I am afraid I can’t recall it, W illiam , we exchanged books so often.” “W hat makes you th in k fath er is still living? Have you heard from him again? Did you ever answer his letter? (Continued on page 373) “ D E F E N D T H E F A I T H ! ” “ I* * ‘ exhort you that y e should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” Jude 3. O v er Tw o T ho u san d "DEFENDERS O F TH E FA IT H " invite you to jo in th eir ra n k s a n d help fight th e d e stru c tive d en iers of th e W ord of God. E n ro ll a t once, an d receive y o u r "A m m u n itio n " fo r c arry in g on th e battle in defense of th e h o n o r of o u r L ord, o u r hom es an d o u r children. N am e.................................................. ............._________ ___ C ity a n d S tre e t..................................................................................... . S tate....... ...................................................... __________
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